









































RECOLLECTIONS. 


PRINTED 


LONDON 

BY SPOTTISWOODE AND CO. 
NEW-STREET SQUARE. 


\ 


I 


RECOLLECTIONS 

FROM 

1803 TO 1837. 


WITH A CONCLUSION IN 1868. 


BY THE 


HON. AiMELIA MURRAY. 


■3 


And now in musing mood I would recall 
From ancient Father Time's ancestral hall 
The thoughts and manners of a distant day 
Long in its dark recesses hid away. 

A non. 



LONDON: 

LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. 


1868. 

C/ 





0 



PREFACE. 


T was known by several persons 
that the publication of this little 
book was intended, before Lady Brown- 
low’s Reminiscences were published ; and 
as the following pages take a very different 
line from those, I hope it is evident that 
the two ‘ Septuagenarians,’ without con 
sultation, or even mutual acquaintance, 
are in accordance, and not in collision. 



A. M. M. 






































































Errata. 


Page 3, line 10 , for shuttles read shutters. 

„ 4, „ 5, „ Miss Aynesley read Miss Aynsley. 

„ „ „ 6, „ Hoole read Harle. 

„ 18, „ 19, „ would wear read would let her wear. 

„ 52, „ 15, „ Miss Binney read Miss Burney. 

„ „ footnote, read, Formerly sub-governess. .. 

„ 59, line 5, omit But. 

„ 60, „ 5, for Grattan’s read Grillon’s. 

„ 61, „ 20, „ Berkendorff read Beikendorff. 

„ 78, last line but one, read A. I. N. B. 






RECOLLECTIONS. 



HE Dowager Duchess of Athole 
of about a hundred and fifty 
years since resided at Moor Park, 
in Surrey. This lady was my grand¬ 
mother. 

General and Mrs. Ludovick Grant were 
within visiting distance of the Duchess ; 
their place was close to Farnborough (then 
called Windmill Hill). The Duchess’s 
second son, Lord George, became attached 
to General Grant’s second daughter, the 
pretty Annie Grant, afterwards my mo¬ 
ther; and the young people were allowed 
by their respective parents to marry at the 











2 


RE COLLE CTIONS. 


[1800 


early ages of eighteen and fifteen, on con¬ 
dition that the husband should matriculate 
at Oxford after his marriage—his mother 
engaging to take charge of his young wife 
during his absence at college. 

Three sons were born to them one after 
another; the third (afterwards Bishop of 
Sodor and Man and Bishop of Rochester 
in succession) was only eighteen years 
younger than his mother. 

In 1800 Lord George Murray was con¬ 
secrated Bishop of St. David’s; but hardly 
three years had elapsed when he died in 
London of influenza, having gone there for 
his parliamentary attendance. He left his 
widow in narrow circumstances, with ten 
children unprovided for, of whom the eldest 
only had completed his education : a lieu¬ 
tenant in the navy, he went the same 
year, in hopes of promotion, to the West 
Indies, and there fell a victim to yellow 
fever. 

Mr. Pitt granted a pension of 300/. a 




i8oo] 


RE COLLE CTIONS. 


3 


year to my mother, and to each of her 
daughters Jol., as long as they continued 
unmarried. This was given in consideration 
that Lord George had saved the countrv 
much expenditure by his invention and 
organisation of the first attempt at tele¬ 
graphic communication — a contrivance 
which was in use during a long period 
of war : it was carried on by means of a 
series of shuttles. I just remember seeing 
one of those telegraphs on the roof of the 
Admiralty; it sent messages through others 
on corresponding heights, and by this 
means notice was given to the different 
ports, which enabled the fleets to unite; and 
a great naval victory was gained in conse¬ 
quence. Now, by electricity, intelligence 
is despatched in a second; but the memory 
of the first method in use should not be 
forgotten. I rather believe a model of the 
old telegraph is still preserved at Somerset 
House. 

I must here relate an anecdote very 


B 2 





4 


RECOLLECTIONS. 


[l800 


characteristic of my grandmother, and of 
her time. 

The Duchess’s youngest son, Lord 
Charles, had married, at that period, a 
Miss Aynesley ; and she being the heiress 
of Little Hoole Tower, in Northumber¬ 
land, he assumed her name in addition to 
his own. 

A great laxity then prevailed in London 
society respecting the observation of the 
Sabbath-day. The Duchess and her new 
daughter-in-law were invited to join a Sun¬ 
day-evening party. Although, from prin¬ 
ciple, strict in their ideas about the Sab¬ 
bath, they accepted the invitation, upon 
condition that there should be no card¬ 
playing on that night. The Duchess and 
the young bride fulfilled their engagement; 
but, upon entering the drawing-room, her 
indignation was roused by the sight of a 
card-table in full operation. Calling upon 
Lady Charles to follow her, she exclaimed, 

‘ I will not stay another minute in this 
house ! ’ 




RE COLLE C TIONS. 


5 


lS °3] 

The carriage had been dismissed on their 
first entrance, so that it became necessary 
for them to leave on foot, and to walk to 
their own residence, which was not very 
distant; but the unwonted appearance on 
the pavement of two ladies, magnificently 
dressed in the very peculiar costume worn 
by the higher classes of that time, attracted 
a crowd around them, as might naturally 
have been expected, and they found them¬ 
selves in an awkward predicament. For¬ 
tunately, this was observed by a gentleman 
of their acquaintance, who accidentally was 
passing in his carriage: he instantly drew up, 
handed the ladies in, and had them driven 
safely to the Duchess’s house. 

Houses and inhabitants now occupy that 
part of Hounslow r Heath where the grim 
gallows once stood : in 1803 two highway 
robbers were hung there in chains, to scare 
away villains who were inclined to follow 
the same pursuit. 

I remember my chddish wonder and 




RECOLLE CT10NS. 


6 


[1804 


curiosity at the sight; but, in the early years 
of this century, laws existed, and things 
were done, which in 1868 would arouse 
public feeling and indignation from one end 
of these united kingdoms to the other; and, 
to judge from a sermon of Bishop Horne’s, 
preached late in the eighteenth century, it 
was then no uncommon thing to see scores 
of felons executed at Tyburn ! 

The year 1804, the second of our mo¬ 
ther’s widowhood, was passed at Shepper- 
ton on the Thames. There two of her 
elder sons (who had not then been to col¬ 
lege) entered themselves as volunteers in 
the Spelthorne Legion, under the com¬ 
mand of the Duke of Clarence. The eldest 
of the family, as already noticed, had gone 
to the West Indies for naval promotion, 
and died there. 

I do not remember much about Shep- 
perton, except that a great many gudgeons 
were caught in the Thames, and that it 
was opposite Oatlands, at which place the 



RE COLLE CTIONS. 


7 


i8°5] 

Duchess of York had a cemetery for dogs, 
with little head-stones to mark where her 
particular favourites were interred. 

In 1805 sea_a i r was advised for my 
mother; and as the King was not expected 
to visit Weymouth that summer, and 
lodgings were therefore reasonable, a house 
was taken for us on the Esplanade ; but 
we had hardly settled there when the King 
changed his mind, and that change influ¬ 
enced the fortunes of my mother’s nume¬ 
rous family ; for the good King and Queen 
became deeply interested in their fate, and 
did everything possible to mitigate the sor¬ 
row of the widow and her orphans. She 
was taken for sea-trips in the Royal yacht; 
her children were noticed and invited to 
the Lodge; they were loaded with pre¬ 
sents and treated with every kindness; 
and by degrees Lady George was induced 
to emerge from retirement. I have been 
seated on the old King’s knee; and I re¬ 
member he charged me always to wear a 





8 


RE COLLE CTIONS. 


[l8o6 

pocket; for George III. was shocked by 
the scanty dresses then in fashion, which 
made it out of the question for ladies to 
wear pockets. 

Where the Royal Terrace now stands, 
there was once a shrubbery belonging 
to the King’s house. The Lodge was not 
dignified by the name of palace, and the 
accommodation it afforded to George III. 
and his family was very small. Houses for 
the attendants and servants were engaged 
far up in Gloucester Terrace ; and I once 
saw royal cooks tossing pancakes in the 
yard next to our habitation. 

But Weymouth was a gay place in 
those days :—two Royal yachts and three 
frigates in the bay ; a picturesque camp of 
sharpshooters on the ‘ Look-out; ’ Hano¬ 
verian cavalry careering on the sands, and 
singing their fine musical choruses as they 
passed along the road; an infantry regi¬ 
ment, with its lively band ; beautiful girls 
and charming children thronging the 




RECOLLECTIONS. 


9 


1S06] 

Esplanade; the King, Queen, and Royal 
family walking about among their sub¬ 
jects ; balls, plays, reviews,—such are the 
reminiscences which the Weymouth of 
r 806 calls up. It was, in truth, a children’s 
paradise ; for George III. and his Queen 
loved children. The King would com¬ 
mand a play at the small theatre, engage 
the whole dress circle, and send round for all 
the young ones to fill it. His enjoyment 
was to witness the happiness and merri¬ 
ment around ; and although such gaiety 
may appear unnatural and mischievous for 
children, yet from my own experience I do 
not think the dissipation was very detri¬ 
mental. But then their attire was simple : 
little folks were not dressed according to 
the fashion of the present day, in silks and 
velvets; so perhaps there was less excite¬ 
ment and vanity. Then it was only the 
married women wdio were attired expen¬ 
sively ; satins and velvets would have been 
considered too heavy and old-looking for 





io RECOLLECTIONS. [1806 

grown-up girls : but, oddly enough, though 
the drapery worn was certainly of the 
scantiest, it was not considered delicate or 
refined to uncover the forehead. Some 
young ladies who had been abroad were 
considered bold-looking because they wore 
their hair Madonna fashion. Ladies not 
in f la premiere jeunesse ’ very generally 
wore wigs : the Princesses had their heads 
shaved, and wore wigs ready dressed and 
decorated for the evening, to save time in 
the toilet. Widows almost always shaved 
their heads; my mother’s beautiful hair 
had been cut off for her deep mourning, 
and she never wore anything but a wig 
in after years. 

One of the men-of-war which were kept 
at anchor in the bay, for the purpose of con¬ 
veying the King during his sea excursions, 
was the ‘ Crescent,’ commanded by Lord 
William Stewart. He was very good- 
natured to the younger among us, and 
often took us out. We all enjoyed a sail 





RE COLLE CTIONS. 


1806] 


T I 


in the ‘Crescent’ very much; and when our 
mother was at sea in the Royal yacht, Lord 
William would give us an invitation to go 
on board his ship, where I watched the 
sailors’ dinner served out : great junks of 
beef dipped from the boiler, each man 
taking his chance of the portion which 
happened to be fished up, as his turn 
came. I do not know if the beef was fresh 
or salt, but I saw no potatoes or other 
vegetables with it. 

It was the custom then for all visitors 
who desired to pay their respects, or to be 
noticed, to form a lane for the Royal 
family to walk through, on their way to 
embark in their barge. Many families 
came from a distance for this purpose, or 
for the sake of seeing the King. On one 
occasion the Queen had sent me a smart 
frock, and I was taken down to the pier to 
thank her. She said, ‘ I hope you liked it, 
my dear ?’ ‘Oh yes, ma’am ; it was the first 
of my own I ever had.’ Surprise being 



1 2, RECOLLECTIONS. [i So6 

expressed, my mother explained that, being 
the youngest of several daughters, I suc¬ 
ceeded to the frocks that my elder sisters 
had outgrown. ‘ Poor dear ! ’ exclaimed 
Queen Charlotte ; ‘ she shall have another 
frock.’ Was not my heart won from that 
very hour ? But it is with sorrow and re¬ 
gret I confess that all the little presents of 
those days I have lost or mislaid, not being 
then fully sensible of the value I should 
afterwards attach to them. 

One morning, coming down early, I 
saw what I thought was a great big ship 
without any hull. This was the ‘ Aber¬ 
gavenny,’ East Indiaman, which had 
sunk with all sails set, hardly three miles 
from the shore, and all on board perished. 
Had any of the crew taken refuge in 
the main-top, they might have been 
saved; but the bowsprit, which was 
crowded with human beings, gave a lurch 
into the sea as the ship settled down, 
and thus all were washed off—though the 






RE COLLE CTIONS. 


1808] 



timber appeared again above water when 
the ‘ Abergavenny ’ touched the ground. 
The ship had sprung a leak off St. Alban’s 
Head ; and, in spite of pumps, she went 
to the bottom just within reach of 

I think it was in 1808 that the King 
appointed my mother a Lady in waiting 
upon his two eldest unmarried daughters, 
the Princesses Augusta and Elizabeth. As 
children, when at Windsor, we used to be 
a great deal in her rooms, which looked on 
the South Terrace, upon the ground-floor. 
There was a small garden in front, and 
rails guarded a sunken area which gave 
light to offices below ; but one afternoon 
my youngest brother, little more than five 
years old, squeezed himself through the 
railing, and fell upon the cistern below. 
At that moment a page came to call my 
mother to dinner : I let her go, and then, 
not being able to find out what had hap¬ 
pened to the child, I sent his nurse to 





H 


RE COLLE CTIONS. 


[1808 

look for him, while I ran wildly down the 
Castle Hill to find the surgeon, who lived 
not far off. He came instantly, and probed a 
wound on the child’s head which had pro¬ 
duced insensibility. The patient was laid 
on my mother’s bed, and was not moved 
for weeks, during which time the Oueen 
and Princesses paid him the most devoted 
attention. I have books now which were 
brought for his amusement, with his name 
written in them by Queen Charlotte’s 
own hand. He was always subject to 
headaches in childhood, in consequence of 
this accident. He was afterwards made a 
page of honour by the King, and subse¬ 
quently went into the Guards. He died 
of a fever in 1834. 

At Windsor Castle in those days luncheon 
was not, as now, a general meal. Each 
lady had a chicken, a plate of fruit, and a 
bottle of ‘ King's cup ’ * brought to her 

* King’s cup was the peel of a lemon put to soak for some 
hours in cold water, and then sweetened with sugar. It was 
the King’s own beverage. 






RECOLLECTIONS. 


1808] 



room, every day the same. We young 
ones highly approved this custom; but 
when I call to mind the system of fees, and 
the perquisites obtained—customs which 
probably had grown up by degrees, or were, 
perhaps, the relics of ancient times — I 
feel that the abolition of them was a great 
boon. 

On all the highest Saints’ days a tinsel 
cross of divers colours was placed on the 
tables of the ladies, or sent to their resi¬ 
dences, and a guinea was understood to be 
due in return. A bottle of wine every 
two days, and unnecessary wax candles, 
were, I remember, the perquisites of the 
ladies’ maids. Candles were extinguished 
as soon as lit, to be carried off by servants ; 
pages were seen marching out before the 
Royal family with a bottle of wine stick¬ 
ing out of each pocket; and the State page 
called regularly upon each person who at¬ 
tended the drawing-rooms, with his book, 
to receive the accustomed gratuity. 

I have heard it asserted that Queen 






16 RECOLLECTIONS . • [1808 

Charlotte was stern and severe in her en¬ 
forcement of etiquette. But children are 
observant, and certainly I have no impres¬ 
sion that such was the case. A page would 
come to my mother’s room with a message m 
to say that, if Lady George was at home, 
the Queen would come down for a little 
while. I have been permitted to sit upon 
a stool at her feet, while she would tell us 
anecdotes of her early years. 

‘ The English people did not like me 
much, because I was not pretty; but the 
King was fond of driving a phaeton in 
those days, and once he overturned me in 
a turnip-field, and that fall broke my nose. 

I think I was not quite so ugly after dat.’ 

' Lady Henderland was one of my ladies. 
She was left to sit with me in the even -1 
ing, when the King went to business ati 
nine o’clock. I sat, and the good lady 
sat, and we both got very tired. At last 
Lady Henderland said, “ Perhaps your 
Majesty is not aware that I must wait till 







RE COLLE CTIONS. 


1808 ] 



your Majesty dismisses me ? ” “ Oh, good 

my lady ! ” I said; “ why did you not tell 
me dat before ? ” ’ 

The King went on one occasion into 
Kent, to review the volunteers at Lord 
Rouncey’s. He was accompanied by the 
Quee n 

‘ I was in a tent,’ she said. ‘ There was 
a sentinel, but I suppose he was looking 
at something else ; so an old Kentish 
woman, in a red cloak, made her way in ; 
and she stood staring at me with her arms 
akimbo. At last she said, “ Well, she is 



“ Well, my good woman,” I replied, “ I 
am very glad of dat.” ’ 

At this time (1808), Princess Amelia 
was still in good health. She was young 
and pretty ; and she enjoyed coming down 
to play with our party of children. We 
peeled walnuts, and put them into a glass 
of strong salt and water, and she liked to 
pick them out. But soon afterwards she 


c 






18 RECOLLECTIONS. [1808 

became very ill. There was great anxiety 
about her. The physicians prescribed sea¬ 
bathing, and ordered her to Weymouth ; 
and as neither the King nor Queen could 
go with their sick child, my mother was 
appointed to take charge of the Princess, 
who was to be accompanied by her beau¬ 
tiful sister Mary. The King and Queen, 
with their usual consideration, gave per¬ 
mission to Lady George that any of her 
family whom she chose to take should be 
of the party. I had been sent to school 
about that time; but I have been told 
many things which occurred at Weymouth 
during my absence. 

I have heard my mother say she would 
not allow herself to be persuaded by the 
Princesses to attend them, in their walks 
into the town, unless they would wear the 
dress which marked their rank ; for though 
it might be agreeable to them to cast off 
the trammels of royalty, they were too 
young and pretty to go about incognito. 




RECOLLECTIONS. 


l 9 


1808] 

The ladies in waiting then wore the 
Windsor uniform, which is at present con¬ 
fined to the gentlemen attendants. It was 
a blue cloth habit, not long as worn for 
riding, but the length of a gown, with 
buttons, having a star surrounded with the 
motto, ‘ Honi soit qui mal y pense,’ and a 
scarlet collar. 

The Princes frequently visited their 
sisters at my mother’s ; and enjoyed being 

0 

received into what, for the time, was a 
family circle. My youngest brother was 
then a child. The Duke of Clarence came 
to spend a few days. It was too much the 
fashion then for gentlemen to use language 
which would not now be tolerated in any 
civilised society. My mother asked as a 
favour of the Duke that he would avoid 
making use of some expletives, which her 
little boy would certainly copy ; and think 
himself justified, after such an example, 
in making use of. The Duke took this 
hint most amiably; and, before leaving 



2,0 


RE COLLE CTIONS. 


[1808 

Weymouth, he said, ‘ Lady George, have 
I not been very careful ? I am sure your 
boy has not learnt any naughty words 
from me.’ ‘ I do feel very grateful, sir,’ was 
her reply; ‘ but if your Royal Highness 
could refrain for a week, why not give up 
a bad habit altogether ? ’ 

I have understood that Queen Adelaide, 
after her marriage, induced King William 
to relinquish this practice ; and that in the 
latter years of the Sailor Monarch’s life he 
was never known to utter an oath. 

I remember an anecdote which exem¬ 
plifies how easily even a very young child 
will repeat objectionable language, though 
without full comprehension, and yet ap¬ 
plying it with some degree of intelligence. 
A friend of mine was carrying his little 
boy, not three years old, across the drive 
in Hyde Park, when a reckless coachman 
very nearly ran over the boy’s mother. 
His father, though little in the habit of 
swearing, in the agitation of the moment 






RE COLL E CTIONS. 


1808] 


2,1 


exclaimed, ‘ D-d fellow ! ’ The child 

made no remark, but two days afterwards, 
when an accidental visitor refused some¬ 
thing he wanted, to the surprise of those 
present this (almost) baby exclaimed, 

‘ D-d fellow ! ’ 

Fires, believed to be the work of incen¬ 
diaries, were frequent about this time — 
Covent Garden, Drury Lane, part of 
St. James’s Palace, a college and library 
at Oxford, were all burned. The Prince 
of Wales was believed to have received an 
anonymous letter, with the information 
that he would hear of many public build¬ 
ings being on fire ; and it was whispered 
that a train of gunpowder was happily 
discovered in time at the Opera House. 

Captain Manby’s experiments, which 
have been so valuable in saving lives from 
shipwrecks, were first tried in this year. 

After my mother’s return from Wey¬ 
mouth, we lived at Windsor, in a house in 
the Cloisters, till our subsequent removal 





1 2 


RE COLLE CTIONS. 


[1808 


to the Parsonage of Burnham, near Maiden¬ 
head, upon my brother’s taking the curacy 
of that place. All those within the pre¬ 
cincts of the Castle were permitted to 
attend the early morning chapel. I recol¬ 
lect seeing the venerable King, standing in 
his pew, making his audible responses; 
but, though a good and obedient son of the 
Church in other matters, he would never 
join in the Athanasian Creed, always closing 
his book whenever it was read. 

Speaking on religious topics, the Queen 
once said : ‘ My dears, you are very strict 
in England about Sunday employments— 
very good and right, where rest is con¬ 
cerned ; but what is work to one may be 
rest to another. If I read all day, my poor 
eyes get tired. I do not like to go to 
sleep, so I lock my door (that nobody 
may be shocked), and take my knitting 
for a little while, and then I can read my 
good books again/ 

In the early part of this century, much 




RE COLLE CTIONS. 


*3 


1808] 

more wine was drunk, as is too well 
known, than is the custom now : few gen¬ 
tlemen rose from table till each had drunk 
his bottle. It once happened that Lord 
Eldon and the Archbishop of Canterbury 
dined with the King. The former became 
rather communicative and merry over his 
port. At last he said, ‘ It is a curious fact 
that your Majesty’s Archbishop* and your 
Majesty’s Lord Chancellor both married 
their wives clandestinely ! I had some ex¬ 
cuse ; for Bessie Surtees was the prettiest 
girl in all Newcastle; but Mrs. Sutton 
was always the same pumpkin-faced thing 
she is at present! ’ 

The King was much amused, and told 
the story to the Princesses. 

I suppose many now alive can remember 
the saving habits of the two distinguished 
brothers, Lord Eldon and Sir W. Scott ; 
habits acquired in their earlier years, and 
retained late in life by them and their 


* Dr. Manners Sutton. 



24 


RECOLLECTIONS. 


[1808 

respective wives. I remember an amusing 
story which was told me as an instance ot 
this. At the conclusion of a week’s visit, 
in a large house, Lady Scott came down to 
her hostess, with arms extended, carrying a 
huge number of towels. ‘ Madam, look 
here!’ she said. 'I think it my duty to 
make you aware of the extravagance of 
your housemaids: day after day I have 
locked up useless towels that have been 
put into mine and Sir William’s rooms ; 
yet they were always replaced. Look at 
all this linen, ma’am!—towel upon towel, 
and during all this week one has served us 
both ! ’ 

The following letters, from the Queen 
to my mother, written when Lady George 
took charge of Princess Amelia, upon 
her being ordered to Weymouth, and 
during a subsequent period, may properly 
be inserted here,—although some of them 
anticipate, by a year or two, the dates 
of my personal recollections. 







RE COLLE CTIONS. 


2 5 


1808] 


‘ My dearest Lady George, 

‘ If words could sufficiently express 
the feelings of my heart, this paper would 
not be large enough to contain the grati¬ 
tude I feel for your attention to my daugh¬ 
ters. Believe me to speak the truth when 
I assure you that it is deeply engraven in 
my heart, never to be forgotten, and that 
I feel certain both yourself and your family 
will be rewarded for this so true an act of 
friendship towards us. As far as I can, I 
shall endeavour to show I am not ungrate¬ 
ful; but by that higher Power which guides 
the heart I trust you will be better rewarded 
than human power can reach, for the latter, 
you know, is always limited. 

‘ I have no imaginary fears about dear 
Amelia, though her weak state of health, 
and sufferings whenever she travels, make 
me expect the worse ; but when I think of 
the alteration for the better before she left 
us, I look forward to have at least as good, 


2 6 


RE COLLE CTIONS. 


[1808 

if not better ews of her, when she has 
passed some quiet days. I rejoice to hear 
that Dr. Pope will not leave her until he 
sees some relief from pain, which he thinks 
was increased by fatigue. 

‘ The storm the doctor encountered 
upon the road was the most awful I ever 
witnessed in England. I was awoke by the 
most violent clap of thunder, and my first 
thought w r as the poor doctor on the road, 
and the next, what Amelia would suffer, if 
you had it at your inn. Thank God ! you 
name it not; and no mischief happened 
here. 

‘ I inquired after your little* Emily. She 
went off very cheerfully from Windsor: how r 
it was when she left home, I am yet to 
learn. 

‘ I trust my dear Mary w r ill soon recover 
from anxiety; her sweet temper must ensure 
her happiness at all times, and I do think 
her without guile. 

* Sent to school. 





RECOLLECTIONS. 


1808] 



‘ I must finish, as I am pressed for time. 
Pray give my love to all your young ladies, 
and to little Henry, and believe me unal¬ 
terably, Your sincere friend, 

(Signed) ‘ Charlotte.’ 

e September 14th. 

‘ My dearest Lady George, 

‘ I have just seen Pope ; he has made 
me more happy by assuring me he means 
to stay till he sees some improvement. I 
fear that the gain in dear Amelia’s health 
does not keep pace with the swiftness of 
time. Plowever, that is in the hands of 
God. We must submit. 

‘ It is with infinite pleasure that I have 
just perused your letter. I hope soon to hear 
of your consent being asked in a certain 
quarter. May the proverb prove true which 
says, “ chi va piano va sano ; chi va sano 
va lontano.” That all may end to your 
satisfaction and happiness, is the sincere 
wish of Your affectionate friend, 

(Signed) ‘ Charlotte.’ 




28 


RE COLLE CTIONS. 


[1809 

Copy of a letter from Queen Charlotte 
to Lady George Murray, written during 
the dangerous illness of one of her chil¬ 
dren, September 2nd, 1809. 

‘ My dear Lady George, 

‘ Many thanks for your letter. I wish 
it could have brought me the account of 
my little Beau’s recovery, as it would have 
given me so much pleasure to hear that, as 
I am sure it would have given you pleasure 
to write it. 

‘ You are, thank God, in good hands, as 
both doctor and surgeon are men of talents ; 
and I rejoiced to hear that the latter thought 
he saw some amendment last night in his 
patient; and when the violence of the fever 
is abated, you know children recover rapidly 
again. 

‘ Many, my dear friend, have been your 
trials, and Providence has supported you 
most wonderfully. He will not now forsake 
you, but continue to grant you fortitude 




1809] 


RE COLLE CTIONS. 


29 

under this new affliction. His is the first 
of all supports, and I am sure you deserve 
it, for I know you fly to Him who never 
fails to comfort the distressed. Could feel¬ 
ing and friendship alleviate your mind, I 
trust you will be persuaded that ere this it 
would have been conveyed to you by the 
family of the Castle, who do, one and all, 
share most truly in everything that con¬ 
cerns you ; and it is in these moments of 
sorrow that I wish not to be what I am— 
to express in deeds what my pen must, un¬ 
fortunately, but faintly express. 

‘ God grant that you may send me a 
better account ! Take care of yourself for 
the sake of your amiable family; and be¬ 
lieve me to be, in prosperity and adversity, 
unalterably 

6 Your sincere friend, 
(Signed) ‘ Charlotte. 

‘ Frogmore, Little Paradise: 

* 2nd of September, 1809/ 




3 ° 


RECOLLECTIONS. 


[1809 


‘ Frogmore: September 8th. 

‘ I will not let the Duke of Cambridge 
go to Weymouth without a few lines to 
thank my dear Lady George for her kind 
letters. Though the accounts of Amelia’s 
amendment are not all I could wish, yet 
do I think that passing an hour in the 
machine is a proof of some strength gained; 
and after the conversation I had with 
Pope on Wednesday last, I think it would 
be wrong in me to indulge any unneces¬ 
sary fears. As far as affection and kindness 
can contribute towards her recovery, Mary 
and yourself do as much as possible. Every 
medical advice required will be afforded, 
and we must trust to Providence, who 
knows the best time for administering 
comfort and relief to those who suffer. 
Though there is so much delicacy of 
frame, yet are there some circumstances 
which give one great hopes that in time 
she wdll be better. I have sent off to town 





1809] 


RECOLLECTIONS. 


31 


for the inhaling machine, and hope it will 
come in time to be sent by the Duke of 
Cambridge. 

‘ Dear Mary will give you a small, very 
small, token of my remembrance ; it w T ill 
at least show you are not forgotten by me. 

" Your affectionate friend, 
(Signed) ‘ Charlotte.’ 

‘Windsor: October 29th, 1809. 

" You will readily conceive, my dearest 
Lady George, how our feelings were tried 
the 25th ;* but it was a glorious happy day 
in every sense, and even from London we 
hear of no excess. The police officers w r rote 
word to Sir W. Parsons that on Thursday 
no man was brought in for bad behaviour 
the preceding day : this is so extraordinary 
that I cannot refrain from mentioning it. 

" Your sincere and affectionate friend, 
(Signed) "Charlotte.’ 

* The day of the ‘Jubilee celebration/ 25th Oct. 1809, 
the commencement of the fiftieth year of the reign of 
George III. 




3 2 


RECOLLECTIONS. 


[l809 


‘ Windsor : August 1812. 

‘ My dearest Lady George, 

‘ I avail myself of the departure of 
your son and daughter to return thanks 
for your kind letter, which I received some 
time ago, with the most pleasing account 
of the happiness of your two amiable 
married daughters.* I take, indeed, a sin¬ 
cere interest in your joy and satisfaction 
to be an eye-witness of such happy scenes, 
and wish most ardently that you may see 
an increase of blessings in your family. 
The world, my dear Lady G., speaks of 
there being a good prospect of dear Louisa’s 
settling soon ; and, though I neither know 
the person or his name, he is reported to 
be a very amiable and worthy man, ex¬ 
tremely well in his affairs, and possessed 
of (what, in England, is of great conse¬ 
quence) the influence of seats in Parlia¬ 
ment. Should the report change into 


* See below, p. 48. 




1809] 


RE COLLE CTIONS. 


33 


reality, I trust you will see her as happily 
settled in life as her two sisters. 

‘ I have not had the pleasure of seeing 
any of your family since you left them, 
till the day before yesterday, when I met 
Miss Louisa in the passage going to Eliza, 
when I took her arm and conducted her 
there. She looked lovely, like a rose, and 
seemed in good health and spirits. 

‘ I wish it was in my power to make this 
bit of a letter in some degree entertaining, 
but nothing passes here now one can call 
enlivening; but we are quiet—a blessing, 
and a great one it is, in our distressing 
situation, and for which I am truly thank¬ 
ful. 

‘ The only thing worth mentioning, is 
our meeting the French Royal family at 
Oatlands, which went off to perfection ; 
the weather favoured us during the whole 
day, and we parted satisfied with each 
other, and with everything else that passed 
there. And now, my dear Lady George, 

D 




34 


RECOLLECTIONS. 


[l809 

what do you think of Lady E. Fordyce’s 
marriage ? It must be poetical love, for he 
always writes verses, and must have sung 
her merits often, which has ended to some 
purpose ! However, one must be just to 
him. His attachment began when she 
was quite a girl, and it seems to have 
increased with his years; so there is con¬ 
stancy for you. 

‘ I have received a most beautiful drawing 
for my work, from Mr. Selwyn. I enclose 
a little note for his better half, which you 
will be kind enough to forward to her 
when you can do so conveniently. And 
now, my dear Lady G., with kind com¬ 
pliments to the inhabitants of Melbury,* I 
will release you from this dull epistle, and 
beg you to believe me, 

‘ Your sincere friend, 
(Signed) ‘ Charlotte.’ 

* The house of the authoress’s brother-in-law. Lord 
Ilchester. See below, p. 56. 

< * A J * ' 



1809] 


RE COLLE CTIONS. 


35 


‘ Windsor : April 1813. 

£ I will not let the day pass, my dearest 
Lady George, without congratulations 
upon the birth of Mrs. Selwyn’s little girl. 
I rejoice that your anxiety upon that sub¬ 
ject is over, and that mother and child are 
doing well. My sincere good wishes at¬ 
tend Mrs. Selwyn for a speedy recovery ; 
and as for the young lady, 1 can wish 
nothing better than that she should be 
like her own dear mother, for then she 
must become a blessing in every sense. 

‘ I made a visit to Burnham yesterday, 
where I met as happy a family as possible, 
or rather two families, for the Ilchesters 
were there, and though I did not dare say 
to your son, “ I am sorry you better your¬ 
self by becoming Bishop of Sodor and 
Man,” I could not resist saying, “ I regret 
you are going to leave us.” The Arch¬ 
bishop of Canterbury the other day spoke 
in the highest terms of your son, which I 




3 6 


RE COLLECTIONS. 


[1809 

mention, as I know it will give you plea¬ 
sure. Your younger sons are well, and 
seem much taken with their little niece. 
I am to see them all to-morrow, for I fear 
the Ilchesters pine already to go back into 
the country. When you see the Dowager 
Lady Ilchester, say everything that is kind 
to her from 

‘ Your sincere friend, 

‘ Charlotte.’ 

f Windsor: Jan. 1814. 

‘ Receive, my dearest Lady George, 
though later than I intended, this my 
not less sincere congratulation upon Lady 
Ilchester being safe in her bed. Your 
presence and nursing will contribute much 
to a perfect recovery, as great care must 
be necessary to guard against cold this 
very severe season; and Lady Ilchester 
ought to feel happy for so good an ex¬ 
cuse for lying in bed, which I protest I 
think the only place to keep warm in. I 



1809] 


RECOLLECTIONS. 


37 


had the pleasure to see the Bishop* and 
Lady Sarah one morning at Windsor; he 
brought me a beautiful plant of the ar¬ 
butus, full of the finest fruit I ever saw. 
I feel sorry not to be able to go to them, 
as I had promised to do ; but the water 
makes the roads in some places dangerous 
to pass, particularly in lanes. 

‘We have had good and satisfactory 
accounts from Hanover. The Duke f was 
received there with the most hearty joy 
and loyalty. The illuminations were, of 
course, not what you have witnessed in 
London, but the devices were appropriate 
to the event. Our allies go on very well 
and prosperously, but the poor inhabitants 
of the country are in a most deplorable 
state, as they are in want of everything— 
even the common necessaries of life can 
they hardly procure for themselves ; but, 

* Of Sodor and Man. 

f Probably the Duke of Cambridge, who was subsequently 
(in 1816) appointed Governor-General of Hanover, after its 
recovery from the power of Napoleon. 





RECOLLECTIONS. 


[1809 


38 

as I am sure that Providence never for¬ 
sakes the innocent, sufferers will, by 
degrees, find themselves relieved, and will 
see happier days. Though not in affluence, 
they may live contentedly, for real wants 
are not great: it is superfluity that makes 
people unreasonable. 

‘ I beg my love to Lady Ilchester; say 
everything that is kind to her. My com¬ 
pliments to Lord Ilchester, and to the rest 
of your daughters. 

‘ Ever your sincere friend, 

(Signed) ‘ Charlotte/ 

‘ My dearest Lady George, 

f I cannot let one day pass without 
returning you thanks for your kind letter, 
and for the sermon which accompanied it. 
1 shall read it to-day, and promise myself 
to derive great pleasure from its perusal, 
as indeed every testimony of love and duty 
to our beloved King must interest me, and 
it is particularly grateful to my heart to 



1809] 


RE COLLE CTIONS. 


39 

have him spoken of by a man whose 
character stands so high, and who cannot 
be suspected of speaking anything but 
truth from the pulpit. 

‘ Ever, my dearest Lady George, 

‘ Your sincere friend, 
(Signed) ‘ Charlotte. 

‘Windsor: November 26, 1815/ 

Often have I heard Queen Charlotte 
accused of want of generosity, and of 
hoarding up money to send to Germany. 
I cannot understand how such stories could 
have originated, unless it were that some 
of her sons, who were very extravagant, 
having got all the money that could be 
procured from their mother, when dis¬ 
appointed of more, cried out against her 
stinginess. 

My mother had quite a service of plate 
made from the gifts of the Queen, who 
used to say, ‘ Lady George will prefer 
plate, which she can divide among her 




4 ° 


RE COLLE CTIONS. 


[1810 


children, to presents of jewellery.’ The 
Queen might be fond of diamonds, as 
many another woman is ; but I have seen 
her as much gratified by an offering of 
handiwork as she could have been if it 
had been made of jewels. 

When my mother was in waiting, and 
her children at Burnham, in the neigh¬ 
bourhood of Windsor, to give her pleasure, 
the Queen would order the carriage to 
drive that way. The only notice we had 
of these unexpected visits was the cry of 
‘ Sharp ! ’ Any simple luncheon the Par¬ 
sonage could offer was accepted with con¬ 
descension and kindness. I recollect that a 
young party were regaling themselves with 
bread and cheese in the drawing-room upon 
one of these occasions. A grand rout took 
place, in the midst of which one popped 
a cheese under the sofa : but unluckily the 
Queen was accompanied by her little dog, 
and it may be guessed that there was con¬ 
siderable alarm for fear he should drag the 



i8io] 


RE COLLECTIONS. 


41 


cheese to light ; however, the visit passed 
off without any such catastrophe. I sup¬ 
pose the cheese was big enough not to be 
disturbed. 

Once Queen Charlotte came over to 
Burnham with the two eldest Princesses, 
Augusta and Elizabeth. While she was 
there, she allowed two little canary-birds, 
pets of mine, to be let out of their cage, 
and they instantly flew and nestled in her 
Majesty’s lap. The Oueen was a little 
startled ; but my mother happily ex¬ 
claimed, ‘What a good augury! The flight 
of birds is always lucky.’ 

The King used to dine early, and he 
joined the Queen and Princesses after their 
dinner. Often my mother has told me 
early delicacies were sent from the table 
by her Majesty to some sick person, with 
the remark, ‘ They were all in good health, 
and did not require things which might 
induce an invalid to take nourishment. 

I remember once walking by the side 



4 2 RECOLLECTIONS. [1811 

of the Queen and my mother at Frog- 
more, when the former stopped, and, look¬ 
ing back at the house, she said, ‘ I should 
like a little conservatory there ; but if I 
were to make one, I must take away the 
money from some who want things that 
signify more. I will not do that ! ’ 

To return to Princess Amelia. For 
some months she had seemed to derive 
benefit from sea-bathing and the air of 
Weymouth; but in the autumn of 1810 
she relapsed, and her death took place in 
November, at the Lower Lodge, which 
was then a building very close to the 
Castle. After she was confined to her bed, 
she desired that I might be brought to 
see her. I remember that she was cheer¬ 
ful, and looked fair and pretty. The poor 
King never recovered the agitation caused 
by a farewell interview w r ith that beloved 
child; and the year after her death, 1811, 
was a sad one indeed at Windsor. But I 
have reason to believe his state was not one 




RE COLLECTIONS. 


43 


1811 ] 

of suffering. To the last he seems to have 
been cheered by devotional feelings and 
a mind of conscious rectitude : he held 
conversations with those long gone before ; 
and the music of Handel, which he played 
himself, afforded him gratification. But 
it is a melancholy reflection, that only so 
short a period had passed since the Jubilee 
of October the 35th had been celebrated 
by general rejoicings, when the venerable 
Monarch sank into the hopeless state in 
which he remained till the close of his long 
and eventful reign. His attached Queen, 
who never shrank from the painful duty of 
watching over her afflicted husband, visited 
his apartments every day. The King’s 
blindness enabled her to sit there for 
some time without his being conscious of 
her presence ; and therefore the medical 
attendants were satisfied that these visits 
caused no evil to their Royal patient. 
The Queen was his sole guardian; and 
no one can doubt that her trust was ful- 



RECOLL E CTLONS. 


44 


[1811 


filled with the utmost tenderness and 
watchful care. 

The present age is, in most respects, 
more enlightened and advanced than that 
which has gone by. George III. and his 
Queen had the foibles and infirmities of 
human nature, and the backward ideas of 
their time ; but those who knew them well 
can witness that they served their Maker 
in sincerity and truth, and their country 
to the very best of those powers and 
talents with which they had been en¬ 
dowed. And it is a great mistake to 
suppose that George III. was devoid of 
ability : his mind had imbibed early pre¬ 
judices, which were perhaps too obstinately 
adhered to ; the very firmness and courage 
of his character would foster such mis¬ 
takes. But there are anecdotes which 
demonstrate his readiness and quickness of 
repartee ; though a certain degree of hesita¬ 
tion in his speech, and his habit of repeat¬ 
ing words, did not always do justice to his 
ideas. 




RECOLLE CTIONS. 


45 


1811] 


At a period when it was the long- 
established custom for the Bishops to wear 
wigs, one of the Episcopal Bench petitioned 
his Majesty for permission to go without 
this appendage ; and he mentioned, as an 
argument in his favour, that Bishop Juxon 
wore no wig. ‘ Very true, my Lord,’ said 
the King; ‘ but then the Bishops wore 
beards. Which you please, my Lord— 
which you please ! ’ 

It was about this time that gas was first 
introduced in England ; a German, of the 
name of Winsor,* gave lectures about it 
in Pall Mall. My eldest brother and my 
uncle were so convinced of the importance 
of the discovery, that they exerted them¬ 
selves to get a bill through Parliament, 
which gave permission for an experiment 
to be made ; and my uncle established the 

* Winsor made his first public experiments at the Lyceum, 
in the Strand, in 1803. He afterwards lighted with gas the 
walls of Carlton Palace Gardens on the King’s birthday in 
1807; and during 1809 and 1810 he lighted a portion of 
one side of Pall Mall. He died 1830. 



4 6 


RE COLLE CTIONS. 


[1811 

first gas-works. Like all the pioneers in 
great works, he was mined, and his coun¬ 
try place, Farnborough Hill, came to the 
hammer. Since then, the old house has 
been taken down, and a modern mansion 
has been built by the present possessor of 
the property ; and it is a curious circum¬ 
stance that the new house is lit through¬ 
out by gas made upon the spot ! The 
greatest chemists and philosophers may 
be mistaken. In 1809, Sir Humphry 
Davy gave it as his opinion that it would 
be as easy to bring down a bit of the 
moon to light London, as to succeed in 
doing so with gas! 

There was about this period an ex¬ 
travagant ‘ furore’ in the cause of the 
Princess of Wales. She was considered an 
ill-treated woman, and that was enough 
to arouse popular feeling. My brother 
was among the young men who helped to 
give her an ovation at the Opera. 

A few days afterwards he went to a 



RE COLLE CTIONS. 


47 


1811] 

breakfast at a place near Woolwich. There 
he saw the Princess, in a gorgeous dress, 
which was looped up to show her petticoat, 
covered with stars, with silver wings on 
her shoulders, sitting under a tree, with a 
pot of porter on her knee ; and, as a finale 
to the gaiety, she had the doors opened of 
every room in the house, and, selecting a 
partner, she galloped through them, desir¬ 
ing all the guests to follow her example ! 
It may be guessed whether the gentlemen 
were anxious to clap her at the Opera 
again. 

I remained at school for a part of the year 
t 81 r. One of the things I remember there 
was the daughter of the Chancellor, Lord 
Eldon, telling me that she and her mother 
had one bonnet between them ! At the 
time of a Court mourning, I saw the 
piece of red tape which the Lord Chan¬ 
cellor himself enclosed in a letter to his 
daughter, telling her to measure carefully 
the length of her petticoat, that there 




4 8 


RE COLLE CTIONS. 


[1814 

might be no unnecessary waste in the 
quantity of bombazine to be sent! 

In 181 2 my two eldest sisters married. 
During this, or the preceding year, there 
was an intention of building a crescent of 
houses where Burlington House now 
stands. I do not know why that plan fell 
to the ground, but in 1814 the great fetes 
in honour of the Sovereigns were given in 
those gardens, which were enclosed for the 
purpose ; and now, in 1868, the site is 
likely to be applied to still better purposes. 

All I recollect of 1813 is, that my mother 
resigned her situation about the Court, and 
that I came out at the Blandford races. 

1814 was a year of great events, of won¬ 
derful excitement. I was at those brilliant 
fetes, given in honour of the Sovereigns 
who then visited England. The whole 
garden of Burlington House was enclosed 
by tents and temporary rooms. I did not 
think the Emperor of Russia a handsome 
man ; he looked red, and stiff, and square : 



RECOLLECTIONS. 


49 


1814] 

his son Nicholas, the future Emperor, was 
a magnificent young Prince. 

Among the numerous followers of the 
Emperor of Russia, there were the ‘ Het¬ 
man ’ Platoff, and twelve of his Cossacks; 
and the influx of strangers into London 
was so enormous as to render it almost 
impossible that all should be properly cared 
for. 

It must be borne in mind that, in 1814, 
there was far less capability of receiving dis¬ 
tinguished foreigners than is in the power 
of London now ; and there has been a gene¬ 
ral confession that even lately, in 1867, 
the difficulty could hardly be surmounted ; 
in spite of the anxiety universally felt that 
British hospitality should not appear either 
churlish or illiberal. 

As no fitting lodgment could be found 
for the distinguished Platoff, the Lord 
James Murray of that day offered his house 
in Cumberland Place. So the PIctman 
and his twelve Cossacks were there received, 

E 





5 ° 


RE COLLE CTIONS. 


[1814 

and every attention afforded to them; but 
many of those rough soldiers preferred the 

<0 

hall and staircases to more refined shelter, 
and it may be imagined in what kind of 
state they left a pretty London abode. 

The King of Prussia was noble-looking, 
melancholy, and gentlemanlike ; the Prince 
of Orange, not particularly attractive ; 
Prince Leopold of Coburg, a handsome 
young man, not then specially noticed ; 
but very soon it was discovered that Prin¬ 
cess Charlotte preferred him to her former 
lover. Small blame to the young Princess! 
but I have strong reason to believe that 
it was through a Russian intrigue that 
she had been thrown in the way of the 
handsomest Prince in Germany,—and that 
the Grand Duchess of Russia came here 
for the purpose of disgusting the Princess 
of England with her intended husband. 
It did not suit Russian views that England 
and Holland should be so closely connected. 

The Grand Duchess Catherine of Olden- 




RE COLLE CTIONS. 


5 1 


1814] 

burg came to this country, I verily be¬ 
lieve, for the purpose of putting a spoke 
into that wheel. She took an hotel in Pic¬ 
cadilly, she earnestly sought the acquaint¬ 
ance of Miss Elphinstone, who was known 
to be on intimate terms with the Princess. 
She gave grand dinners, and took care to 
invite the Prince of Orange the night he was 
to waltz in public with the Princess, as her 
Jiance. The Grand Duchess plied him 
well with champagne, and a young man 
could hardly refuse the invitations of his 
hostess ; he was made tipsy, and of course 
the Princess was disgusted. Then, in Miss 
Elphinstone’s apartments, the charming 
Prince Leopold was presented. Was it to 
be wondered at that a girl of seventeen 
should prefer him to the former lover? The 
Prince of Orange was speedily dismissed ; 
and in due time he married the Duchess 
of Oldenburg’s sister. 

This intrigue accounts for all that hap¬ 
pened subsequently. Princess Charlotte 



52 


RE COLLE CTIONS. 


[1S15 

consented to go to Cumberland Lodge, and 
afterwards to Weymouth, attended by the 
Dowager Countess of Ilchester and Mrs. 
Campbell,* for whom, from her childhood, 
she had had a great regard ; upon this un¬ 
derstanding, that if she should be in the 
same mind at the end of twelve months, 
she would have the Prince Regent’s 
consent to her marriage with Prince 
Leopold. 

Miss Knight’s ‘ Memoirs’ almost ignore 
Mrs. Campbell’s name ; and she would as¬ 
sure us that she herself was the favourite 
friend and attendant of the young Prin¬ 
cess : but neither Miss Binney nor Miss 
Knight belonged to the court of Queen 
Charlotte, and I believe, as regards the 
latter, she only attended to read for about 
an hour in the day; the Queen, with her 
usual kindness, giving a handsome salary, 
because she thought it was needed. 

When Princess Charlotte, upon her mar- 


* Sub-governess to the Princess. 





RE CO RLE CTIONS. 


53 


1S15] 

riage, had choice of her attendants, she 
selected Mrs. Campbell, not Miss Knight; 
and she always appeared attached to 
Lady Ilchester and Mrs. Campbell. She 
called one 4 Mam,’ the other ‘ Tam.’ For 
at the time Mrs. Campbell was with her, 
in the days of childhood, being made to 
learn Latin, she would playfully decline 
Campbell, making Ca?n, Tam, and going 
on to Tas, Tat, Tint; and all these nick¬ 
names were occasionally made use of by 
Mrs. Campbell’s friends. 

A curious circumstance occurred in the 
Princess’s childhood. Mrs. Campbell had 
been appointed sub-governess; she was fond 
of children, and very attractive to them ; 
the little Princess delighted in going to her 
room. One day, on finding Mrs. Camp¬ 
bell busy writing, she enquired what it 
was about. ‘ I am making my will,’ was 
the reply. ‘ Oh, then, I will make my 
will; ’ and begging a sheet ol paper, the 
child sat down, using a trunk for her table, 



54 


RECOLLECTIONS. 


[1815 

and taking a pencil, in large hand she wrote 
as follows:— 

I leave my parrot to So and So, 

My doll to-, 

My monkey to-, 

And all my non -valuables to Mrs. Campbell. 

She then ran away with the paper in her 
hand, and took it to Lady de Clifford and 
Dr. Nott. 

Will it be credited that this bit of 
childish play was made the ground of a 
serious accusation ? The sub-governess was 
accused before a Privy Council of an act 
of treason in allowing the ‘ Heiress Pre¬ 
sumptive ’ to make a will, by which her 
own sole advantage was succeeding to the 
Princess’s non-valuables. Upon this, Mrs. 
Campbell resigned her appointment, and 
it was not until the Prince Regent wished 
to form an entourage agreeable to his 
daughter, that Mrs. Campbell was sent 
for, with Lady Ilchester, to receive the 
Princess at Carlton House. 

It was about this time (1815) that 






RE COLLE C 7 IONS. 


* 815 ] 


55 


Sellis, an Italian servant, concealed him¬ 
self in the Duke of Cumberland’s bed¬ 
room, and tried to assassinate him. The 
man rushed back to his own room and 
cut his throat, when he found he had not 
succeeded in killing his master. I know 
there have been a great many cruel in¬ 
sinuations upon these points: it is my 
belief they are wholly false. The man 
Sellis was always an ill-looking fellow; he 
might have his reasons for determining to 
wreak revenge upon the Duke, who, being 
the most unpopular member of the Royal 
family, was accused of many actions worse 
than those of which he was really guilty ; 
but whatever his failings, the King of 
Hanover was neither a coward nor a hypo¬ 
crite, and he was not the man to do bad 
deeds in the dark. His wife was a niece 
of his mother’s; her character was not 
respected, but she was rather a favourite 
with George IV. When Prince Regent, 
he endeavoured to get his mother to pass 




RE COLLECTIONS. 



[1815 


over her former misdeeds. Although his 
influence was great, the Queen told him she 
would receive the Duchess of Cumberland 
as a daughter, if he insisted upon it, but 
she would not do so unjust a thing as to 
receive the Duchess of Cumberland and 
not also receive the Princess ot Wales. 
Th is settled the matter. 

After a short sojourn at Cumberland 
Lodge in Windsor Park, the Princess 
Charlotte went to Weymouth, from 
whence I remember her coming to Mel- 
bury, the house of my brother-in-law. 
Lord Ilchester. On being presented with 
a bouquet, and observing that it contained 
some orange-flowers, she quickly took 
them out, and flinging them away, ex¬ 
claimed, ‘ None of those, thank you.’ This 
showed what her sentiments were; and it 
was her objection to the Prince of Orange 
himself, not any dislike of an occasional resi¬ 
dence abroad, as Miss Knight suggests, that 
was the cause of that Prince’s dismissal. 





RECOLLE CTIONS. 


57 


1816] 

We had a family party at Abbotsbury 
Castle, within a drive from Weymouth ; 
and the Princess often came over. One 
day she was sitting on the great bank of 
pebbles which extends from Portland to 
Bridport, when she saw some village chil¬ 
dren, attracted by the Royal liveries, climb 
to the top of the beach to get sight of the 
Princess. She watched them ; and as some 
of the loose pebbles they displaced rolled 
down towards her, with her gayest man¬ 
ner she called out, ‘ Hallo there ! Princess 
Charlotte is made of gingerbread ; if you 
do that, you’ll break her ! ’ 

In the spring of the following year I 
saw her at what was then Buckingham 
House, attired for her wedding ; and in a 
few short months that brightest gem in 
the English crown was carried to the 
tomb. But does not the Judge of all 
things rule aright ? Out of that dark 
abyss of grief and despair there came an¬ 
other light ! After a period of waiting, 




58 


' RE COLLECTIONS. 


[i 816 

Queen Victoria’s star arose, and Prince 
Albert’s precious life was lent, to be to us 
a glorious example. 

I have heard Queen Charlotte accused 
of neglecting her granddaughter, and I 
have reason to think that some people 
still believe she was wanting in attention 
and advice. This is most unjust. 

The Queen did not consider Sir Richard 
Croft as a safe adviser; but as the Princess, 
like many other young people, was im¬ 
patient of recommendations which she 
considered uncalled for, her grandmother 
found it useless to interfere ; and, being 
then very ill herself, she followed the 
advice of her own physicians, and went to 
Bath. 

I am positively of opinion that Princess 
Charlotte was starved to death ! that the 
Heiress of England died from insufficient 
nourishment! A lady I knew found the 
Princess one day actually in tears over her 
luncheon of tea and bread and butter. 




RE COLLE CTIONS. 


59 


1817] 

She had been accustomed to take a mut¬ 
ton-chop and a glass of port wine, and she 
said she felt quite weak for want of it—Sir 
Richard having forbidden any meat in the 
middle of the day. But she required a 
generous diet, and having always been used 
to it, she felt the loss ; yet the orders of 
her physician were strictly obeyed, and I 
think her life was the sacrifice. On the 
fatal termination of her illness. Sir Richard 
Croft rushed into a room where Mrs. 
Campbell was,—exclaimed, ‘ She is dead, 
and the child too ! ’—set off to London, 
and destroyed himself. The lodge-keeper’s 
wife at the gate was confined at the same 
time, and recovered favourably. 

But the circle of Eternity is wide. 
From that ocean our present existence 
may be but as a drop. Ol its source we 
know but little ; and as to its future, we 
know not now, but we shall know hereafter. 

Madame de Stael and Madame Re- 
camier visited England this year. They 






6 o RECOLLECTIONS. ’ [1817 

both attracted great notice—the first as 
the great Wit, the last as the celebrated 
Beauty of Paris. Madame de Stael re¬ 
quested to be presented to the Duchesse 
d’Angouleme at Grattan’s hotel, before 
she left England, after the restoration of 
the Bourbons. She was much inclined 
to get up a scene on the occasion ; but 
the Duchesse, who had gone through too 
much agony and deep affliction to under¬ 
stand or sympathise with mere sentiment, 
quietly put the attempt aside, saying, 

‘ Madame, ces larmes ne sont pas ne- 
cessaires.’ 

Madame de Stael visited most of the 
celebrated places in England ; among the 
rest, Blenheim. The then Duke of Marl¬ 
borough had a paralytic affection of his 
speech, and used tablets to make known 
his requirements. • Madame de Stael re¬ 
quested to look at them, and exclaimed, 
‘II y a toutes les necessaires de la vie, 
mais pas un mot d’amour ni d’amitie.’ 






i8i8] RECOLLECTIONS. 6l 

/ 

How truly French! As if an invalid 
would be likely to express affectionate 
feelings through mechanical tablets ! 

Many years later, I visited Madame 
Recamier at Paris. Chateaubriand was 
there, and sat opposite to her. I did not 
think these once celebrated people were 
examples of green and cheery old age. 

In the year 18 x 8 Queen Charlotte expired 
at Kew, leaving whatever was in her power 
to her four unmarried daughters. This 
consisted, principally, of her jewels; for 
there was so little money, that some of the 
personalty was sold to pay a few outstand¬ 
ing debts. 

Christmas-trees are now common. In 
the early part of this century they were 
seldom seen, but Queen Charlotte always 
had one dressed up in the room of Madame 
BerkendoriF, her German attendant ; it 
was hung with presents for the children, 
who were invited to see it, and I well re¬ 
member the pleasure it was to hunt for 




62 


RE COLLE CTIONS. 


[1819 

one’s own name, which was sure to be 
attached to one or more of the pretty 
gifts. I think it was Thackeray who 
laughed at the idea of the Queen sending 
her wedding-dress over to Germany, to the 
home of her early years : this shows the 
unkind manner in which any little action 
of that poor Queen was commented upon 
and criticised. Could anything be more 
natural and kind than this recollection of 
what would afford pleasure to others ? 

On April 23rd of the year 1819 the 
Duke and Duchess of Kent landed at 
Dover. No particular notice was taken 
of the circumstance. Shortly afterwards, 
my mother and I were commanded to 
drink tea at Kensington Palace, to be 
presented to the Duchess. There was no 
other company. In the following month 
the Princess Victoria was born. 

It was believed that the Duke of Kent 
wished to name his child Elizabeth, that 
being a popular name with the English 



RE COLLE CI IONS. 


i 8 i 9 ] 



people ; but the Prince Regent, who was 
not kind to his brothers, gave notice that 
he should stand in person as one godfather, 
and that the Emperor of Russia was to be 
another. At the ceremony of baptism, 
when asked by the Archbishop of Canter¬ 
bury to name the infant, the Prince Regent 
gave only the name of Alexandrina ; the 
Duke requested one other name might be 
added—‘ Give her the mother’s also, then ; 
but,’ he added, ‘ it cannot precede that of 
the Emperor.’ The Queen, on her ac¬ 
cession, commanded that she should be 
proclaimed as Victoria only. 

At this period of my life the loss of a 
dearly beloved sister was a shock which 
prevented me, for years, from having any 
enjoyment from general society. 

The following Journal has come to light, 
which describes this grievous event. It 
was written in 1819, by Lady Susan 
O’Brien, at the age of 77. Lady Susan 
was Lord Ilchester’s aunt, his father’s 





64 


RE COLLE CTIONS. 


[ i8i 9 

eldest sister. She was highly appreciated, 
in her younger days, in political and literary 
circles. Born about the middle of the last 
century, she was the bosom friend and 
companion of the beautiful Lady Sarah 
Lennox; and was associated with her as 
one of the bridesmaids to Queen Charlotte. 
An unsuitable marriage, disapproved of by 
her family, kept Lady Susan for some years 
in retirement; but, in her widowhood, 
much of her time was spent at Melbury. 
She writes as follows : — 

‘Jan. 8 th .—Lady Ilchester taken ill; she, 
wishing for a daughter, a girl was born, but 
with the loss of the mother ; and such a 
mother, such a wife, such a friend, such a 
woman, as she has scarce left behind ! This 
happy home has, in a moment, become a 
house of desolation. Yesterday, with joy 
drinking little Stavordale’s health, on his 
birthday, who could forebode such misery 
so near ? Grief is universal, high and low, 
rich and poor. It is impossible to think of 






EE COLLE CTIONS. 


65 


1819] 


it as, perhaps, one ought to do ; for who 
can help thinking such a dispensation hard? 
It may spare her future misery, but much, 
very much, it inflicts upon her dear sor¬ 
rowing husband, children, mother, friends, 
everybody! 

'All the melancholy preparations being 
made, I went to look at the last repository 
of this dear friend to myself, and the 
delight and blessing of all who belonged 
to her, or with whom she was con¬ 
nected. 

‘ The only two coffins I have ever looked 
at were those of the most amiable of men 
(her husband, Mr. O’Brien), and of this 
most excellent of women. I think I will 
never look at another; no situation or 
attachment I can ever now have will give 
me the desire. 

‘ Jan. 31 st .—The sad day of the funeral: 
that past, we must hope that tranquillity 
of mind may in some measure be restored 
to the mourners. Lord Ilchester, Lady 


F 




66 


RE COLLE CTIONS. 


[1819 

George, Miss Murray, and I attended. A 
dreadful effort for him ; and to us all, very 
affecting. Our hearts bled for him; so 
suffering, bowed-down a plant, lately 
flourishing, so gay, so happy. 

‘ Feb. 2,nd .—The eldest little boy, four 
years old, went with me to my room. 
With much earnestness and serious curi¬ 
osity, he asked, “ Where is my mamma ?” 
“ She is gone away.” “ How did she get 
out of bed ? ” “ She was taken out.” 

“ Did Davidge (the maid) take her out ? ” 
“ I don’t know.” “ Where is she gone 
to ? ” Hardly knowing what to say, I 
replied, “ To Heaven.” He said, “ Then, 
if she is naughty, she will come back 
again ; but mamma’s never naughty, only 
little boys.” Seeing her room empty, his 
mind had been at work to find out where 
she was. These questions brought tears 
into my eyes. He looked surprised, said 
no more, and soon began to play again. 

‘ yd .—Returned home ; but what a 





RECOLLECTIONS. 


i 8 i 9 ] 



desolate home I shall find it! How much 
more must poor Harry feel his so ? 

i ith .—Dowager Lady Ilchester called, 
going to Abbotsbury; all our thoughts 
were on the same subject, his loss and our 
own ; for we have suffered from one of the 
severest a family could have, in the death 
of a second Lady Ilchester (still more pre¬ 
maturely than that of Harry’s mother), 
which I could live to lament. A death so 
early, so unexpected, as to add to the shock 
it would at any time have occasioned to 
all who loved her,—and all who knew her 
did love her. Her merits were so great in 
every way, her mind was liberal and 
candid, her countenance expressive of the 
gaiety and vivacity of her disposition. She 
was tall, she had a light mountaineer’s 
kind of figure, with “ fair noble ” beyond 
what I ever before saw ; her judgment was 
guided by an excellent understanding ; she 
could more readily pity than blame those 
who erred; but could well distinguish 






68 


RE COLLE CTIONS. 


[1819 

where her friendship and confidence were 
deserved : her conversation was particu¬ 
larly agreeable. She knew all that it was 
desirable for a woman to know on most 
subjects, and on .many her information 
was great. She possessed many accom¬ 
plishments : natural history in all its 
branches, modern languages; she drew 
well; her country tastes were very decided. 
She was a tender, judicious mother; in 
short, she was the vivifying principle per¬ 
vading everything and everybody around 
her; a link uniting two families. We 
can only hope that the true religious prin- 
cipl es which guided her conduct may be 
an example to others, and that they may 
bestow resignation upon the mourning 
survivor of such an union. 

‘ We may mourn and weep ; but let us 
be satisfied that no event is cruel or 
unnatural; it is only that its consequences 
are as yet unknown.’ 

In the year 1820 George III. was taken 



RE COLLE CTIONS. 


1820] 



to his rest alter his long pilgrimage. Under 
the circumstances, there could be no cause 
for regret when this event took place; 
but lew could deny the many virtues he 
possessed. Ever guided by sincere religious 
principle, and endowed with great personal 
courage, he adhered unflinchingly to what 
he considered the path of duty; and any 
political errors, or domestic troubles, were 
owing perhaps as much to the backward 
ideas of his time as to the King’s want of 
judgment. He was most anxious to train 
up his children in the way they should 
go; but severity was the fashion of his 
day, and, though naturally a tender and 
affectionate father, he placed his sons under 
tutors who imagined that the rod of Scrip¬ 
ture could mean only bodily punishment. 
Princess Sophia told me once that she 
had seen her two eldest brothers, when 
they were boys of thirteen and fourteen, 
held by their arms to be flogged like dogs, 
with a long whip ! Was it wonderful that 




RECOLLECTIONS. 



[1820 


the results proved anything but satisfac¬ 
tory ? 

1 have often spent an evening in private 
with the Princess Sophia at Kensington 
Palace : she was an example of unmurmur¬ 
ing patient endurance such as can be rarely 
met with. 

I think her abilities were most superior. 
Blind and suffering, no complaint ever 
issued from her lips. She said she did not 
like to have a resident lady, for, not being 
able to see, she should always fancy the lady 
sitting opposite to her, looking wearied. 
Her literary acquirements were consider¬ 
able: she had four readers who came to her 
every day—French, German, Italian, and 
English; and as each was employed only for 
an hour, she observed, ‘ the fatigue would 
not be too great for them;’ and she was 
thus kept ‘ au courant du jour,’ while she 
tore paper into small bits, to fill pillows, 
which she found were acceptable to in¬ 
valids. 





RE COLLE CTIONS. 


7 1 


1820] 

The last time I saw this amiable 
Princess, in addition to her blindness she 
was in some degree deaf, and could not 
move from her seat without being carried ; 
yet still she was as patient and kind and 
uncomplaining as ever. 

As usual with the gossiping world, 
many unkind and cruel things were said of 
the daughters of George III. As young 
Princesses, when marriages in their own 
rank of life were almost out of the ques¬ 
tion (the Continent being sealed up, as far 
as England was concerned, by the will ol 
the first Napoleon), they were unceas¬ 
ingly thrown into attractive and agreeable 
society, and, of course, were exposed to the 
risk of forming attachments which could 
not (after the Marriage Act) be legalised. 
It is supposed that, had the poor Princess 
Amelia lived, she would have confessed to 
a private marriage with General Fitzroy, 
and she certainly left him all the property 
she could call her own. 



7 2 


RE COLLE CTIONS. 


[l820 

Of course, topics of this nature furnished 
sufficient foundation for the stories of that 
class of scandal-mongers whose occupation 
and amusement it is to spread evil reports 
respecting the highest and purest of the 
land. 

These observations recall to my mind 
one whose friendship was the chief blessing 
of my earlier years, and whose loss can 
never be replaced—Lady Noel Byron : she 
who was traduced and misunderstood ; one 
of those pure spirits little valued by the 
world, though worshipped by those who 
knew her well. Some others besides my¬ 
self, still on this side the grave, can bear 
witness to her excellence. 

I think I may consider that I am justi¬ 
fied now in printing some extracts from her 
letters, and some verses of her writing ; for 
once she expressed herself to me thus: — 

c Had I felt certain that words of mine 
would answer any purpose, I should at 
once say, Do as you like with them.’ 




1820] 


RECOLLECTIONS. 


73 


And I feel sure that some of her words 
will answer a good purpose : she cannot 
speak for herself now—she never did speak 
for herself when she could have done so ; 
but for the sake of truth, for the sake of 
some who, I think, would not intentionally 
be unjust, for the sake of the gratitude and 
the love I bore her, and for the sake of her 
blessed example, I cannot write of past 
years and write nothing about her. In 
one of her beautiful letters, she says :— 

‘ I hope to leave this world without 
having said a word that could damage 
anybody, and so I must let people say what 
they will of me. Yet there is one thing 
that does sometimes surprise me : some of 
those I have been most kind to have con¬ 
strued it as unkindness ; but persons of 
experience tell me this is no uncommon 
circumstance ; still, any kind things one 
has done will always be pleasant to remem¬ 
ber, and the kindness one has received will 
never be forgotten; so the inner peace. 




74 


RE COLLE CTIONS. 


[l820 

more precious still than the outer, will not 
be disturbed. 

‘My term is not likely to measure yours, 
so you may possibly hear what is said of 
me when I can give no more offence.’ 

The following letter is very character¬ 
istic:— 

‘Havre: September 27. 

‘ Did I say that I would write after my 
voyage ? If I did, you will be alarmed by 
not hearing ; so a few words. It was not 
a pleasurable voyage: first, an engine-man 
had his leg horribly torn and broken ; next, 
a violent storm at night; and thirdly, an 
adverse wind, with a very heavy swell all 
the way; so that the voyage took twelve 
hours more than usual. 

‘We got in last night by the beautiful 
moonlight, and, with difficulty, found a 
lodging. Indifferent as it was, it was 
welcome in comparison with the creaking 
crib. I certainly am not so courageous at 
sea as I used to be. I believe the boiling 



1820] 


RE COLLE CTIONS. 


75 


kettle disturbed my peace of mind; but I 
have had a little holiday, seeing that I have 
run away from all my friends. 

‘ Well, I am glad that I came here,— 
though I did think myself a great fool, 
when I doubted whether we should not 
be kept out at sea longer, or shipwrecked. 

‘ I must go to bed : very tired still. I 
had seven sick—indefatigably sick—ladies 
to attend to in my cabin ! In these foreign 
boats there are no proper arrangements for 
attendance. My maid and I waited on 
them all, as w T e were the only sound ones ; 
and Smart gave up for the last twelve hours. 
It was, indeed, a swell to try the strongest; 
and a courier who was on board has been 
in such a state of terror ever since, that he 
cannot be left alone. 

'Sept. 8.—We were once in a critical 
situation ; the Captain made a signal for a 
pilot, and waited some time ; but as the 
wind was rising, and none came, he deter¬ 
mined to risk bringing in the vessel him- 




j 6 RECOLLECTIONS. [1820 

self. The entrance of the harbour is very 
narrow, and we were in danger of touching 
a rock. I had had the discretion to avoid 
knowing anything ; but the boat was over¬ 
laden. We had eighty German emigrants 
on board—wretched paupers, who slept on 
deck. I shall be at Paris about the 15th. 
I wish you could transport yourself to the 
Hotel Meurice, where I shall be. 

‘ I have introduced the young poet to 
Rogers, with whom I am to breakfast once 
more. How wonderfully clear his memory 
is, and how interesting his anecdotes ! He 
told me two of his youth : that the first 
thing he remembered was his mother taking 
him out of bed to see an eclipse of the 
moon ; he was then two years old ! When 
he was twelve she had uttered words he 
had never forgot: “ Be good—be good.” 

‘ I could not appear to aid F., but I can 
point out a way. I have an interest for 
him which would make it painful for me to 
think he was in a destitute state ; he served 




RECOLLECTIONS. 


77 


1820] 


his master for good, and, alas ! for evil, 
with a fidelity which might, with a better 
education, have proved a great virtue. 


Yes, unremember’d love may work a blessing. 
By seeds once sown ; 

Some angel voice at last the boon confessing 
Before God’s throne! ’ 


How she loved her child ! I never shall 
forget her sweet melodious voice, touch¬ 
ing even to tears, especially when she 
repeated some lines of her own on Ada’s 
guitar. 

Oh no ! ’tis not the stranger’s hand. 

How skill’d soe’er and free, 

Could call from memory’s fairy land 
The dreams revived by thee ! 

It seems as if the breath of song. 

The soul of poesy. 

Were poured those magic chords along 
All, all mysteriously! 

Yes—more than music haunts the ear 
Without the spells of art: 

Is it a spirit mingles there. 

And touches thus my heart ? 


1832. 




78 


RE COLLE CTIONS. 


[1820 


( Ockham : November 3. 

‘ For all donations, thanks. I hope to 
fulfil my part by sending the grey lock 
you ask for. I have an association of con¬ 
stancy with silver hair : 

Take, with this lock of silver grey. 

Love that can ne’er with time decay. 

Nor fade like youthful tints away.’ 

She was once reproached for not writing 
as much or as frequently as usual. She 
answered, ‘ A few pot-hooks and hangers 
less,—the same friendship always.’ 

ON TALFOURD’S DEATH. 

Thine eye a Court more holy saw. 

Thy voice was true to Christ’s own law; 

No longer now as Judge didst speak. 

But Pleader for the wrong’d and weak; 

Declaring guilty those who stood 
Apart from human brotherhood. 

Who ‘ let alone ’ each want and woe. 

To giant crime ere long to grow. 

Yes, ’twas the poet’s soul that wrung 
Unworldly music from thy tongue; 

Thy last, last words to heaven arose. 

And gave a glory to the close. 


March 15, 1854. 


A. T. N. B. 




RE COLLE CTIONS. 


79 


1820] 


BY THE FORSAKEN. 

‘ Forsaken ’—oh ! if thou hadst been 
An outcast from mankind for aye. 

The desolate, the desert scene. 

Where thou wast driven in scorn awav, 

Had been my proudly chosen path. 

Forgiven for being thus thy slave; 

And I had borne thy sorrow’s wrath. 

And every wound thy spirit gave: 

My only prayer, that more than all 
In sufferance I might hold thee dear, 

And never by a look recall 

The thought of thanks 1 would not hear. 

But ev’n that silence of my breast 

Was searched, accused, revenged as crime. 

Till shrank, all wasted and unblest. 

The heart that would not chill by time: 

But it must come—thine hour of tears. 

When self-adoring pride shall bow. 

And thou shalt own my ‘ blighted years ’— 

The fate that thou inflictest,— Thou! 

Thy victim !—but from ruin still 
Shall rise a wan and drooping peace. 

With pardon for unmeasured ill. 

And pity’s tears—if love must cease. Anon. 

In 1820 I was taken to see the corona¬ 
tion of George IV. We left Dorsetshire 
at three o’clock in the morning, and, with 
four horses, we -succeeded in arriving in 
London by eleven o’clock at night. Now, 




8 o 


RECOLLE CTIONS. 


[1837 


what a long railroad journey may be ac¬ 
complished in half the time ! 

In 1830 I witnessed the coronation of 
King William and Queen Adelaide. 

In 1838 I was in attendance at the 
coronation of Queen Victoria. 

At the time of Her Majesty’s accession 
(1837), Mrs. Jameson, the eloquent au¬ 
thoress, was going in a canoe up Lake 
Superior. She wrote to me thus :— 

‘We hailed a schooner with, “What 
news?” “William IV. dead, and Queen 
Victoria reigning in his stead! ” 

‘ We sat there silent, looking at one 
another, and at that moment the orb of 
day rose out of the lake, and poured its 
beams full in our dazzled eyes. 

‘ Many thoughts came into my mind, 
some tears rose into my eyes, not certainly 
for that dead King, who, in ripe age and 
in all honour, was gathered to the tomb ; 
but for that living Queen, so young and 
fair. 





i8 37 ] 


RECOLLECTIONS. 


8 I 


As many hopes hung on that noble head 
As there hang blossoms on the boughs in May. 

‘ And what will become of them, of 
her ? 

‘ The idea that even here, in this new 
world of woods and waters, amid these 
remote wilds, to her utterly unknown, her 
power reaches, and her sovereignty is ac¬ 
knowledged, filled me with compassionate 
awe. I say compassionate ; for if she feel 
in its full extent the liabilities of her 
position, alas for her! and if she feel them 
not, oh ! worse and worse. 

‘ I tried to recall her childish figure and 
features. I thought over all I had ever 
heard concerning her. I fancied her not 
such a thing as they could make a mere 
pageant of; for that, there is too little 
without, too much within. And what will 
they make of her ? for at eighteen she will 
hardly make anything of them, I mean of 
the men and women around her. It is of 
the woman I think more than of the 

G 


/ 




82 


RE COLLE CTIONS. 


[ l8 3 7 

Oueen; for, as part of the State machinery, 
she will do quite as well as another, better 
perhaps; so far, her youth and her sex are 
absolutely in her favour. If she be but 
simple-minded, and true-hearted, and 
straightforward, with a common portion 
of intellect; if a Royal education have not 
blunted in her the quick perceptions and 
pure, kind instincts of the woman ; if she 
has only had fair play, and carries into 
business plain distinct notions of right and 
wrong, and the fine moral sense that is not 
to be confounded by diplomatic verbiage 
about expediency , she will do better for us 
than a whole cabinetful of cut and dried 
officials, with Talleyrand at the head of 
them. 

4 And what a fair heritage is this which 
has fallen upon her!—a land young like 
herself, a land of hopes ; and fair, most 
fair. Does she know, does she care any¬ 
thing about it ? while hearts are beating 
warm towards her, and voices bless her. 




RE COLLECTIONS. 


i 8 37 ] 


8 


o 

o 


and hands arc stretched out towards her, 
even from these wild lake shores.’ 


Letter from Hofwyl, near Berne :— 

‘June 29, 1838. 

‘ We too have had our coronation fete. 
Yesterday the boys were invited to the 
Chateau garden, into which they marched, 
singing ‘ God Save the Oueen.’ The ma¬ 
jority being English, various amusements 
were provided for them ; after which we 
adjourned to the Grand Salon, which was 
brilliantly illuminated, and decorated with 
flowers. At the head of the room was 
hung a picture of a youthful female figure, 
supposed to represent Queen Victoria, sur¬ 
rounded by a garland of roses. Tables 
loaded with strawberry cakes and confi¬ 
tures were ranged both sides of the room. 
At ten o’clock, punch, negus, &c., were 
served round, when De Fellenberg gave 
the Queen’s health, and eloquently repre¬ 
sented to his English pupils their good 





84 RECOLLECTIONS. [1837 

fortune in being subjects of a Sovereign 
the personification of all virtue. 

The royal flag is rais’d once more 
Into its wonted place. 

And gives the Tower it flutters o’er 
A glory and a grace.’ 


1 do not recollect precisely the year 
when I first heard the clergyman Frede¬ 
rick Robertson, of Brighton,* but his 
manner and his matter made a vivid im¬ 
pression on my mind. 

FI is sermons were rather fragmentary, 
but there was such a deep sincerity in his 
words, they came so warm from his heart, 
that he had a power of melting and affect¬ 
ing his hearers beyond any preacher I ever 
heard. 

In one sermon he pointed out the ex¬ 
traordinary fact that there is a class of 
well-intentioned and anxious Christians 
who think themselves more devotional, 

* It must have been considerably later than the last event 
alluded to. See Life of Rev. F. W. Robertson. 





* 837 ] 


RE COLLECTIONS . 


8 $ 

and better followers and disciples of Christ, 
for their habit of depreciating the ‘ Sermon 
on the Mount,’ and who speak of the 
Saviour’s own teaching as if it were mere 
morality, and not the true revelation : but 
it was evident to me, that while Robertson 
dwelt on deeds, not words, as proving 
Christian belief, he was a true spiritual 
Christian in thought and doctrine, as well 
as in word and deed; one who would 
have gone to the stake in his Master’s 
service, and who, without seeking to be a 
martyr, would yet have gloried in martyr¬ 
dom for the truth’s sake. 

H is influence over the working-classes 
was unbounded. It was his custom to 
lecture to them, and to interest their 
minds and imaginations ; he frequently 
repeated Longfellow’s exquisite ‘ Psalm of 
Life.’ A dying soldier at Balaklava had 
read and marked the lines. In his last 
agonies he murmured, 

Footprints in the sands of time. 




86 


RECOLLE CTIONS. 


[1868 


CONCLUSION. 

1868. 

S not that vista impressive and in¬ 
structive through which a rational 
being is permitted to contemplate 
more than sixty years of life ? 

Of those I remember in the year 1806, 
how few are still on this side the grave, to 
sympathise with me, as I look back, with 
the same touching and deep interest as that 
which is excited in one who has passed 
through the scene ! 

I see the numerous family of King 
George III. and Queen Charlotte: all have 
followed their parents to that ‘bourne from 
which no traveller returns.’ 

I see the father of the present young 
Earl of Ilchester, a little posthumous child, 







i868] RECOLLECTIONS . 87 

in his white frock and brown beaver hat, fol¬ 
lowed by a fat nurse, climbing up and down 
some huge blocks of Portland stone, which 
had been placed at the farther end of the 
Esplanade, in preparation for a pier that 
has now been in existence almost half a 
century ; I see old Lady Bath, the widow 
of Sir William Pulteney (who, the gossips 
said, wore an additional petticoat over the 
others when a clean one was required, and 
wore all till the lowest one dropped off) ; 
I see Sir Harry Burrard Neale, the Admiral 
in command of the protecting squadron, 
and the two naval captains Lord William 
Fitzroy and Lord William Stewart, Ad¬ 
miral and Mrs. Digby, Lord and Lady 
Dartmouth, Lord and Lady Poulett, with 
a very large family, oi which, I believe, 
only one member survives ; Mr. and Lady 
Elizabeth Spencer, Mr. and the beautiful 
Mrs. Collins, Mr. and Lady Georgiana 
Buckley, Lord and Lady Charleville, Col. 
and Mrs. Graham, Mr. Greville and the 



88 


RECOLLECTIONS. 


[l868 


Countess of Mansfield, the celebrated Pre¬ 
mier Mr. Pitt, and Lady Hester Stanhope; 
German officers belonging to the Hanove¬ 
rian Legion, Baron Osten, Baron Kenes- 
beck, &c. &c. &c., and hundreds more, 
whose very names have escaped my me¬ 
mory. All these, and many more, have gone 
to their long home,—and that they ever 
existed is, perhaps, remembered by few. 
This may seem a melancholy retrospection, 
but let us not contemplate it with a sad 
and melancholy spirit. 

It is sometimes said that the feelings of 
old people become blunted and callous as 
time wears on with them. I do not believe 
this, nor do I admit it as a true explana¬ 
tion of that calm endurance with which 
the aged most frequently accept and bow 
resignedly to the most heartbreaking dis¬ 
pensations, feeling that, however trying, 
these dispensations are ordered by an all¬ 
wise and overruling Providence. 

When once we not only admit, but 
practically realise, that all afflictions are 




1868] RECOLLECTIONS. 89 

sent to discipline, and that all events (how¬ 
ever incomprehensible to mortal eyes) are 
the precursors of ultimate good, resigna¬ 
tion loses its difficulty, and grief becomes 
bearable. We mourn ‘ as if we mourned 
not,’ and our sorrows are borne with an 
unmurmuring spirit. 

Only a small portion of the circle of 
existence is visible here, and who can say 
whether that portion is to be long or short ? 
But while we remain in this world, before 
that curtain is drawn down which sooner 
or later must fall upon all alike, let us be 
assured that ajust appreciation of the merits 
of our fellow-actors, and a kind and patient 
endurance of their faults or foibles, will 
smooth many difficulties which might 
hinder and beset our own parts and paths, 
and even brighten up their close. So, is it 
not well to bear in mind some touching 
lines of the Scottish poet, Burns— 

Wha made the heart, ’tis He alone 
Decidedly can try us; 

He knows each chord its varied tone. 

Each spring its various bias. 



9 o 


RE COLLE CTIONS. 


[1868 


Then at the balance let’s be mute. 

We never can adjust it; 

What’s done we partly may compute. 

But know not what’s resisted. 

Then gently scan thy brother man. 

More gently sister woman .... 

I quote from memory, and can quote 
no more. 


FTNIS. 


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MEMOIRS 

OF 

SIR PHILIP FRANCIS, EC.B. 


WITH 

CORRESPONDENCE and JOURNALS. 

•Commenced by the late JOSEPH PAPKES; completed and edited 
by HERMAN MERIVALE, M.A. 


CRITICAL 

‘ These two volumes are so complete and 
so carefully executed that they will take 

rank at once as a standard work.They 

are a treasury of interesting and valuable 
information, and give us a picture that has 
been most skilfully and judiciously put 
together, not only of Sir Philip Francis, 
but of his times.’ 

Spectator. 

‘These two volumes exhibit in a very 
striking way the indomitable zeal and well- 
directed research with which the late Mr. 
Parkes pursued the object which he had in 
view. They shew no less plainly that, while 
the apparent object was a Life of Sir Philip 
Francis, its real one was to establish the 
identity of Francis and the writer of the 
celebrated Lexers of Junius. Mr. Pabkes 
was a sturdy Franciscan, who saw J unius 
here, Junius there, and Junius everywhere, 
and was ready to anathematise every one 
who did not share -his belief. Mr. Meri- 
vale, to whom, on the lamented death of 
Mr. Parkes, the completion of the work 
was very wisely entrusted, though enter¬ 
taining the opinion that Francis was 
Junius, enters upon the examination of the 
evidence in a calmer and more critical 
spirit; and we cannot but think that the 
book will be far more popular in its present 
form than it ever would have been if Mr. 
Parkes had been spared to complete it. 
The book is one of very considerable interest, 
and the vast amount of new materials which 
Mr. Parkes has gathered together for the 
biography of his hero throws much new and 
important light upon the political history 
and party struggles of the stirring scenes in 
which that able but unamiable statesman 
took a part.’ 

Notes and Queries. 


OPINIONS. 

‘ The memoirs of a man who, during a 
long career, played no unimportant part, 
both in English and Indian politics, and 
who lived in close contact with more than 
one generation of statesmen, can hardly 
fail to excite interest. But, as it is to his 
supposed identity with Junius that Fran¬ 
cis owes the greater part of his posthu¬ 
mous fame, so it is for fresh evidence on 
that point that the generality of readers 
will turn to these volumes. This latest 
contribution to the literature of the ques¬ 
tion, if not the last, has, at least to all 
appearance, closed the case for Sir Philip 
Francis. The shadow of the name has 
steadily been growing into consistency and 
form. If, by the additional light let in 
upon it by Mr. Parkes, the name of Fran¬ 
cis is not to be read in legible characters, 
then, it seems to us, the only alternative is 
to refuse all faith to circumstantial evi¬ 
dence. The deep interest taken by Mr. 
Parkes in the subject, and his indefatig¬ 
able industry, made him the very man to 
clear up the mystery. There are few who 
would be willing to devote the best part of a 
lifetime to the solution of a subsidiarv 
question, which was, after all, rather curious 
than important, and was, moreover, re¬ 
garded by most people as practically settled. 
Had Mr. Parkes been spared, the work 
would have been still more exhaustive. 
After establishing the claims of Francis, 
it was his intention to have disproved, one 
by one, those advanced on behalf of others. 
As it is, it seems to us, that the case for 
Francis is made out so conclusively, that 
to sum up evidence against the rival claim¬ 
ants would be wasted labour. Mr. Parkes’ 
industry shrank from no trouble, and drew 
on every imaginable source of information.’ 

Imperial Review. 


London: LONG-MANS, GREEN, and CO. Paternoster Row. 




























































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